It was during my one-year-old Jonah’s annual well check that I heard our family doctor mutter those words I have been awaiting for several months now.
“Well, it looks like the issue hasn’t resolved itself like we had hoped it would.” The doctor said upon further examination. “I’ll put a referral in so he can see a specialist. This will most likely need surgery.”
For months now I had assumed something was not right but after expressing those concerns our doctor informed me there was a good chance it could fix itself by his first birthday. When Jonah’s first birthday came and went, it was apparent Plan B was on the horizon.
A pre-op appointment with a specialist verified what I had already known and an outpatient surgery was scheduled soon after for my fifteen month old. I felt confident that he was in good hands and the prognosis was all reassuring, too, but if there was anything I was concerned about it was that my baby would have to be put to sleep throughout the entire procedure. That seemed to be as big of a deal as the surgery itself.
The day before the surgery I received a call from the doctor’s office, briefing me with pertinent information like what to bring to the hospital, how early to come, and when Jonah could no longer eat or drink anything the day of.
“If Jonah has any personal item that comforts him such as a stuffed animal or a blanket, please feel free to bring it along for him.” the nurse encouraged me. In that moment, I drew a blank. Jonah has by far been my easiest baby. A self-soother, he seldom cries and when he does, usually a hug and a kiss make it all better rather quickly. Just how do you prepare a virtually non-communicative little one that they can’t eat anything for seven hours and what do you do to provide comfort for pain a hug and a kiss can’t cure? My little Michelin man has rolls the likes of which I’d never seen before and he has come by them honestly. He had never missed a meal or a snack time previously. Going without breakfast or lunch… well, that was going to be interesting.
The day of the surgery, dietary rules were in play. No eating after 6 AM meant that rockstar sleeper Jonah would skip out on an early breakfast in favor of a few more zzz’s instead. Jello and Pedialyte were allowed until ten in the morning. For a babe who had known milk and water as his only drink options, Pedialyte was accepted like candy in liquid form. Jell-O never even got a chance when he got his hands on a sippy cup of that sugary electrolyte liquid! The morning and early afternoon came and went surprisingly without a hitch. When we arrived at the hospital, Jonah’s vitals were taken while he was changed out into a hospital gown & slippers. While I knew he would be all the better for the surgery, I couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from him throughout the procedure. I tried to pass the time along as best as I could in the waiting room but nothing could keep attention off of what was going on just down the hall in an operating room. Within the hour, the doctor came in and went over how things went. It would be another half an hour until I could see him in a recovery room. My husband was able to join me just in time to go back and see him. Groggy and dazed, Jonah sat on a nurse’s lap with his heavy head resting on her shoulder. He looked up and smiled at our familiar faces. Sedatives were still wearing off and it was clear that even smiling was work. Cords and tape and IV’s were taken off as he sat on my lap and we received additional care information. An epidural used during the procedure would mean he could be unsure on his feet for the remainder of the day, but he would otherwise be right as rain.
On the drive home, I periodically looked back into my rearview mirror to see how Jonah was fairing. He stared out the window, a rather blank look on his face. Just what was going on in that little mind of his?
By the time we were home, Jonah was already acting like his regular self. Climbing furniture and stairs, running down the halls, and smiling incessantly. Trying to hold him back as the doctor recommended proved a challenge as he just wanted to go. I took it all to be a good thing. Clearly, he was feeling well.
Jonah is now almost fully recovered and I count my blessings that we are fortunate enough to have wonderful options for health care in the Kansas City area. With three children, this is about the most severe medical situation we have dealt with and it has been very reassuring knowing that our youngest guy was in such good hands. Cheers to that.
Now, if you don’t mind me, I think I’ll treat myself to some of that leftover Jell-O.